


To Borrow a Cup of Sugar

by SweetestHoney



Series: Oneshots - Spider-Man [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, I have heathens encouraging me to finish this, Kink Negotiation, M/M, PWP, Peter doesn't actually ever say 'yes' but he is very much consenting, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Quentin Beck knows, Quentin may or may not spend some time angsting about that at a later date, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, i blame them, oh boy is he, oops how is there plot? this should have been plotless but...., peter parker is a slut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Peter Parker has this neighbor who's really hot. That's it, that's almost the entire freaking plot right there. Quentin Beck is Peter's neighbor, and well, could you resist?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone for poking me into finishing this, I am kind of the worst and haven't written at all for a while. Glad I'm getting back into the swing of it with uh, this.... lol it was a lot of fun to write though!

Peter knew his stupid crush on the guy that lived across the hall and two doors down from him was hopeless. They'd never exchanged two words to each other, never even done the 'head nod when you pass each other in the hallway', but Peter somehow always saw the man as he came or went. He knew the man knew who he was as well, at least probably figured he lived there too. 

But Peter's brief glimpses of the man's broad shoulders, large hands always clenching and unclenching as he talked to someone on the phone or typed out a message as he walked by, and those_ thighs,_ Peter could write sonnets about those thighs - the glimpses he had of the man drove him crazy, and he wasn’t sure if he could do anything at this point. He was too far gone already. 

Peter shook his head, intent on focusing his thoughts away from the beautiful stranger that took his breath away every time and back to his last lecture of the day. It was on particle wave transference, which Peter usually found interesting, but could barely focus on his professor with how much his body was insisting he seek out that neighbor and beg for his dick. 

_ Maybe it's time you found someone to dick you down properly. _ He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the images his mind supplemented, images of faceless hands grabbing him by the hips and _moving_ his body, pushing and pulling using him like a toy. He knew it was wrong, to want to be used like that, but he couldn't help it. 

"Alright, I know when I’m fighting a losing battle, I see the eyes glazing over. You're all free to go, and remember these five extra minutes when it comes to the end of the semester performance reviews!" There was a ripple of laughter across the room; Professor Stark was hardly the type to need a hand up in his class reviews - Peter was lucky to have gotten into the class as a freshman at all, the classes were usually limited to upperclassmen only. 

"Oh and remember, special guest on Monday!" Professor Stark held up his hands, halting the class' movements momentarily. "Doctor Quentin Beck will be joining us, he's collaborated with me in the past and I managed to get him to agree to talk to you all, so don't be late!" Peter grinned. He'd heard of the doctor before, even read one or two of his papers when he was in high school. He finished putting all his things into his tattered backpack, shoving hard to cram the last of his notebooks in. He really needed a new one, his bag had two spots already patched with duct tape but money was tight and if he could make it last until the end of the semester he wouldn't have to eat only ramen for the last two weeks of classes. 

When Peter finally left, he was one of the last people out of the classroom and he got a nod from Professor Stark, who seemed fond of him. Peter wasn't sure, but he suspected Professor Stark had something to do with the fact that he got into the class as a freshman, not that he had any conclusive proof of that. 

He spent the walk back to his apartment daydreaming about the man a few doors down from him, and what he wanted the man to do to him, and he almost didn't realize when he arrived at his building, so lost in his thoughts. When he looked up, snapping out of autopilot, he was standing on the sidewalk outside. He sighed. _ I really need to get laid, I'm gonna walk into traffic someday soon if I don't stop spacing out like this. _

As he pushed open the door to the building, Peter shook his head, trying to clear it and focus on the papers that were due at the end of the weekend. He was so lost in his thoughts that when he went to open his bag for his keys, he tugged too hard on the already stressed zipper. The bag ripped down the side, spilling its contents all over the hallway and in every direction. 

“Shit!” Peter dropped to his knees, trying to gather everything together. His notebooks landed more or less right under him but his various pens, pencils, erasers, and other small things accumulated over the semester scattered in every direction, and he had to walk on his knees to reach some of them. He strained to reach them instead of just standing up and walking over to them, not wanting to have to stand up and then get back down. 

Peter didn’t hear the door down the hall open, he was so focused on gathering his things, but he did hear the groan that followed when the person leaving saw him on the ground. 

He whipped around, ready to apologize for his mess, but before he even had time to process that he was facing the hot guy who lived down the hall, there were hands on him. The man hauled him to his feet, stepping easily around the things still all over the hallway, and _shoved_, walking Peter a few steps until he was pressed against the door to his apartment, the man a hot hard line at his back. 

Peter had only a second to comprehend what was happening, and note with appreciation the solid erection pressed against his ass before the man was speaking, growling words in his ear. 

“God, you fucking - you’ve been _ teasing _ me for weeks you little slut, with your perfect ass and your stupid hair that _ needs _ to be pulled-” a hand fisted in his hair and did exactly that, tugging his head sharply to one side to expose his neck, which the man promptly bit, nibbling on his skin for a second before drawing back. “And now here you are, waiting for me, your perky little ass in the air like you were begging for it, and you know what? I’m not perfect, I can’t resist, if you’re going to be this slutty I might as well give you what you so _obviously_ need.” Peter couldn’t speak, he was so shocked, but his body responded to the man’s words, pressing back against the erection at his back and grinding against it eagerly. 

Peter heard his own breathy moan from somewhere outside his own body, so lost in sensation that it took him a moment to realize it was him that made that noise. The man growled again, biting down harder on his neck and leaving what would surely be an epic bruise. 

“Keys, now.” Peter nodded, fumbling with the keys he miraculously still had in his hands and trying to unlock his door. He spent a millisecond thinking about his stuff still all over the hallway, but a thrust against him from behind cleared all thoughts from his mind except getting into his apartment. He forced the key into the lock, turning the knob at the same time. 

When the door opened, he nearly stumbled and fell but strong hands caught him, holding him steady. The man walked him into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind them, holding Peter by the shoulder, one hand snaking around to palm at Peter’s own erection, rubbing him through his pants. 

“Bed?” The man’s voice was rough, and Peter nodded, raising one shaky hand to point in the general direction of his bedroom. That was enough for the man, who used his grip on Peter and his larger presence behind him to easily walk him in that direction, giving Peter no choice but to be led. 

When the man kicked open the door to Peter’s bedroom, Peter only had a moment to lament the messiness of the room before he was shoved onto the bed, falling clumsily onto his stomach. He didn’t get even a moment to adjust to his new position before the man was on top of him, one knee on either side of his thighs and his erection pressing into Peter’s ass once more. 

“God, look at you.” The man’s voice was rough, and his hands ran up and down Peter’s sides appreciatively. Peter squirmed, pinned by the man’s weight and the position he was in. He wasn’t exactly _unhappy_ about the situation, but he wanted to touch the man as well, and his arms were pinned. “You’re such a _ pretty _ boy, aren’t you?” 

A hand fisted in his hair, forcing his head to the side so the man could see his face, pressed against the pillow as he was. Peter groaned and his eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of the hand in his hair. “Yeah, so pretty, you were just born to be a slut like this, weren’t you?” Peter could barely move his head, but he managed a slight nod and got a groan and a tightening of the hand in his hair in response. 

The man let go of his hair and leaned back and Peter whimpered, missing the contact already. The man chuckled darkly and Peter felt the sound go straight to the pit of his stomach, giving him butterflies. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’, just making sure I can get at you, hmm?” Hands moved Peter, pulling him up so they could divest him of his shirt, tugging it over his head. Once he was shirtless he fell back down onto the pillow, bringing his arms up and crossing them under his head so he was comfortably laid out, his back on display. The man reached around him, undoing his pants and tugging them down, stripping them efficiently off Peter's body in seconds. 

He groaned and ran his hands down Peter's back, trailing fingertips along his flanks. Peter shuddered at the touch, letting out a soft moan. 

The hands left his skin and there was a rustling noise. When Peter turned and looked behind him, he saw the man stripping off his shirt. Peter's mouth went dry at the sight - the man's torso was even more muscular and well defined than he'd dared imagine, and when he moved it showed off the sleek catlike grace he used to get Peter in this position in the first place. 

Peter whimpered low in his throat and the man wrapped those large hands around his hips, lifting him easily. He hoisted Peter's ass into the air and held him there until he got his knees underneath himself. 

When he was comfortably kneeling, face mashed against the pillow once more and ass in the air, he felt more than heard the low laugh of the man, and a knee shoved between his own, pushing them wider apart. The man roughly grabbed at his ass, fingers digging in with unnecessary force. Peter gasped at the sensation, and spread his legs further still, welcoming the touch. 

The sound of a zip and the rustling of fabric came next, and Peter could guess what the man was doing, even if he couldn’t see it. “Lube?” Peter nodded, and freed one hand from under his head to grope for the bedside table. The man’s hand pushed his aside and grabbed it easily from his position over Peter. There was a soft snick when he opened it, and Peter felt a slippery touch trace along his back briefly before settling between his cheeks, one finger pressing the rim of his hole. 

He gasped as he was breached, rough skin adding to the friction in the best way, and when the man pulled his hand back a quarter inch Peter made a low noise in his throat, protesting the movement. The man chuckled, and then there were two fingers pushing back inside him. 

“God, you’re just too eager for it, aren’t you? You open right up for me, almost don’t need to prep you.” The burn was tight, but Peter loved it, pushing back against the fingers, trying to get more. “I don’t know if you’re just a slut and that’s why you’re so loose, or if you’re just like this for me.” Peter whined but didn’t argue - he _was_ letting someone whose name he didn’t even know fuck him like he was in heat. 

The man pumped his fingers inside Peter, pushing in and out quickly and making him cry out, nearly in tears from the feeling. It was too much and not enough and he writhed on the man’s fingers, needing him to do _something_. 

Before long, the man scissored his fingers, stretching Peter further, and then he pulled away, returning after a moment with a third finger lubed up, pressing insistently against Peter’s ass. 

Peter breathed in deep - when he stretched himself he usually went a lot slower and he wasn’t used to quite so much of the feeling at once, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. As the man pushed his fingers into Peter he leaned forward, his front pressed against Peter’s back. The new position put his mouth next to Peter’s ear as he spoke, a quiet voice filled with dark promise. 

“Hmm, you like that, don’t you?” Peter’s breath stuttered. “You like me taking you hard and rough like this, stretching you out so fast?” Peter couldn’t answer, it felt like the man had stolen every ounce of breath from his lungs, but the man kept talking. “I know you do, I can feel it, hon, just like I know you’re going to take every inch of my dick and come crying at the feeling.” It was a lot of sensation at once, and Peter was almost relieved when the man leaned back. Almost. 

He didn’t have much time to mourn the loss, however, as the man removed his fingers from Peter’s ass and Peter felt something bigger pressing into him from behind. 

He gasped, feeling the size of the man’s dick, he couldn’t see it from his position facedown on the bed, but he could tell just from the feel that it was bigger than his fingers. Peter was a little unsure it would even _fit,_ but as the man pressed into him, he realized that the hands gripping his hips showed no signs of stopping. 

Slowly and firmly the man pushed inside of Peter, coming to a stuttering halt deeper inside Peter than he thought was possible. He paused like that, giving Peter a few moments to adjust to the feeling, and as Peter forced himself to keep breathing, the pain lessened and the pleasure skyrocketed. Peter couldn’t move much, he surely couldn’t _speak_ but he managed to raise the hand he’d thrown out towards the side table in a gesture he hoped could be interpreted as _ ‘move! _’. 

“You sure?” One of the hands left his hip and ran up his back, sliding into place in the hair at the back of his neck like it was meant to be there. It tugged, pulling his head off the pillow a little, and he gasped in a breath, easier with the added help. “I’m gonna need to move soon, I - this is - you’re so _tight,_ god, it almost hurts.” Peter nodded his head, encouraging, and the man bit off a groan and let go of his hair, hand returning to its place on Peter’s thigh. 

With the leverage, the man used his grip on Peter to pull out slowly, and then push in just as agonizingly slowly as he pulled out. Peter groaned, trying to move backward in encouragement, and that was all the man needed. 

His hips snapped forward, nearly pushing Peter down with how unexpected the movement was. Peter caught himself, bracing with his elbows against the bed, and he dropped his head into the pillow again, groaning with relief. 

The man was fucking him hard and rough now, hands pressing finger-shaped bruises into the skin of his hips and holding Peter up so he could thrust into him more easily. Peter was in heaven, trying to hold on to the last threads of his sanity, and he just let himself be used, moved however the man wanted him. 

The sensations were so many and all at once and Peter knew he wouldn’t last long at all even before the man started moving. When one hand snaked around to his front, searching, he batted it away, not thinking further than wanting to last. 

“You don’t - don’t want -?” The man’s confusion was evident, and he slowed his pace slightly, not stopping entirely. Peter had to focus in order to use his words, but he made the herculean effort, wanting to be clear. 

“Want - need - to come on just y-your dick, please, need it-” He wasn’t sure at first if he’d been audible, but at the roar from the man and the renewed vigor of his thrusts, Peter figured he'd heard enough. 

The man sped up somehow, fucking Peter with total abandon, and Peter knew if he was standing, his knees would have given out by now. As it was, the man held him up as he fucked into Peter, keeping his hips level. 

The renewed speed of his thrusts and the power behind each one had Peter on the edge of orgasm almost immediately, and he sobbed, trying to hold off a little longer. He couldn’t hold off long, though, and as the man leaned forward, stomach and chest pressed against Peter’s back so he could sink his teeth into the meat of Peter’s shoulder Peter gasped. His orgasm was so intense that he couldn’t do much more than bite the pillow in front of him as he came, holding on for dear life. 

As he came, Peter both felt and heard the man come as well, a warmth inside him and a grunt as his hips were pulled back, held flush with the man’s as he emptied himself inside Peter. 

After a few moments they both stilled, breathing heavily, with the man draped solidly over Peter’s back, still inside him. Once Peter felt like he had sort of caught his breath, he moved slightly, comfortable with the weight but sweating under the body head they’d generated. The man took it as a signal, however, and pulled back, pulling out of Peter with another groan. Peter winced at the feeling, and then again at the feeling of come dripping out of him. 

“So, uh.” The man’s voice was normal enough, and Peter realized he hadn’t ever heard him speak before that day, and what he _had _heard was mostly growled instructions. “That - uh. Yeah.” He sounded awkward, like he had no idea how he ended up in the position he found himself, and Peter couldn’t help it. It started out as a giggle, but soon he was laughing hard, unable to stop for long minutes, since every time he looked at the man’s politely confused face staring back at him he cracked up again. 

Once Peter finally had himself under control again, still grinning but more or less composed, he turned back towards the man. “Sorry, sorry I just - I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. Well, I was, but not at like, that, just at your, your face.” Peter felt high, and with the intense orgasm and then the laughing fit, he probably looked and sounded like he was. 

The man waited until he was sure Peter was done before speaking, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I - yeah, I don’t know what came over me.” The laughing threatened to return, and Peter bit down on a smile. The man saw, however, and he frowned at Peter. “What?” 

Peter shook his head but answered. “Nothing, well, it was - it was stupid. I was just thinking that _you_ were the one that came over _me_.” The man rolled his eyes but smiled as well, and some of the strange tension eased at that. 

“Sure, yeah, that’s - I deserve that.” Peter grinned back at him and realized something. 

“Oh, uh, I just realized, I don’t - I don’t know your name. I’m Peter.” He stuck out his hand, rolling so he was laying on his back, pulling the sheets up to cover his lower half. The man took it, still grinning, and shook firmly. 

“That’s fair. Hi Peter, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Quentin.” Peter’s smile grew softer, less silly and more real. 

“Like the scientist!” The man, instead of smiling, faltered and Peter looked at him with concern. “Oh, yeah, I mean, I guess not everyone knows like, all the famous researchers but yeah, there’s someone in my field of study who has the same first name, it can’t be that common, right?” He shrugged, grinning back at Quentin, but the man still looked a little concerned. 

“Uh, yeah. Just, uh, out of curiosity, which scientist is that?” Peter blinked, confused at the question. 

“Quentin Beck, he’s like, a really well-known physicist. I think he actually knows my professor too, which is really cool, I might get a chance to meet him next week.” Quentin’s face lost a fair amount of color, and Peter reached out for him, worried. Quentin flinched away from the touch and stepped out of range quickly. 

“Yeah, that - that sounds like fun, well, I was - I actually have to go, so uh, I should probably-” He didn’t finish the thought, turning around to look for his shirt and tucking himself back into his jeans at the same time. Peter watched the man he’d been laughing with a few minutes before fumble with his pants, realizing he’d barely done more than pull them down a few inches as he fucked Peter senseless. 

Quentin found his shirt and tugged it over his head, and when he looked back to Peter, Peter was frozen, still sitting with just the sheet covering him, confused. “I’m, I’m sorry - I know - but this isn’t how I - I have to go.” Peter blinked, and Quentin gave him a guilty look and a curt wave. “It was - I should have - fuck.” He sighed and covered his face before looking back at Peter. “You deserve better than me, and I’m sorry that I’m being weird, but I have to - I’m late, I had a thing and I-I’ll see you around Peter.” He bobbed his head, waved again awkwardly, and walked quickly out of the room, and the apartment. 

Peter blinked, wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing in a fever dream. He looked down at himself, still very much naked with come dripping out of him and sore as hell. Nope, not a dream. He wrapped his hands around his knees, drawing them up to his chest and trying not to cry. 

_ Shit. What was that all about? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeelllll shit. I said I was going to maybe write one more oneshot. This is - this is *decidedly* not that. I uh. There is some plot, some kink negotiations, and holy shit this might end up a lot longer than I was planning. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I blame Talc, Shine, and Lemon. They're the ones responsible for this monstrosity. So uh, stay tuned and let me know what you think?

Peter had no idea why his life always ended up this way. Somehow, no matter who it was or what else was happening, if something good happened to him, something shitty and invariably worse followed immediately after. Case in point, the past week. 

After getting fucked so hard he couldn't walk for half an hour (he timed it - it was literally half an hour before he got the ability to work his legs back) and somehow scaring his partner away with just a first name (he must have had an ex named Peter or something, it was the only thing he could think of) he'd had the weekend from hell. Starting with a paper he'd forgotten about until an hour before it was due, he spent most of the weekend catching up on work that was late already, he spilled _at least_ one cup of coffee on himself each day, and when he was making his third run for more coffee (it wasn't because he was desperate okay, he just really wanted more coffee) he realized he'd been glancing towards Quentin's door every time he left, and hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man. Before he'd seen him once a day usually, sometimes more than once if he had a lot of classes. 

Peter shook his head, trying to put the lack of the man out of his head. He'd not successfully stopped thinking about it yet, every moment spent drudging through the piles of homework over the weekend he had the last few minutes of their encounter in the back of his mind, thinking over where he went wrong. Peter still wasn't sure what it was that he’d fucked up, and the only thing he could guess was that it might have been the name Peter. Or that the man had an aversion to being told that he had the same name as a researcher, but Peter’d only ever heard good things about Quentin Beck, even if the man was probably a hundred years old. 

Given that Professor Stark said they were friends, Peter figured they probably went to school together, or maybe graduate school. He wasn't sure how old Professor Stark was, but he'd guess it was probably forties or fifties at least. If Peter wasn't his student and he didn't have a  _ totally normal _ professional crush on him as a mentor figure, he probably would have tried to pick Tony up. He did like his men older than him and sassy. 

That thought brought him right back to Quentin, and he shoved the image of him holding Peter's hips as he fucked him out of his mind. Peter focused his eyes on the lecture hall in front of him, directing his thoughts back towards the empty whiteboard. With how his weekend went, Peter knew that if he got hard in class, someone would probably point it out for everyone to laugh at him. 

That thought was enough to quell the burgeoning erection, and he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs to give himself more room. Nobody usually sat next to him in this class, as he made himself take up as much room as possible to discourage it. The room was unusually full, however, and Peter sighed as a girl dropped into the seat directly to his left. The arm of the desk covered his lap, however, and he scooted over to give her more room. 

When Professor Stark bustled into the room a few minutes later, the level of chatter in the room rose and then quickly fell, dropping off to next to nothing as the students waited eagerly. Professor Stark looked up at them, still putting his things onto the desk, and raised an eyebrow. 

"I don't have him in my pocket, so you can stop holding your breath." A ripple of giggling ran through the classroom and some of the tension eased. Peter knew everyone was excited to hear from Beck, but he hadn't expected  _ everyone  _ to be quite as antipacitory as they were. He looked to his neighbors on either side, and both girls were leaning forward, eyes fixed on Stark. Come to think of it, as Peter roamed the room with his eyes, he saw a lot more seats filled than there usually were, mostly girls. 

Peter leaned over towards the girl on his left, who seemed to be sitting and waiting without a backpack, or really any things for class at all. "Why are there so many people here? I thought Doctor Beck is just a researcher, I can't imagine this many people want to hear him talk." She turned towards Peter and smiled at him, excited to share. 

"Oh  _ no _ , nobody is here because they care about what he's going to say. Doctor Beck is one of the hottest men ever to walk this Earth, god, I'm like, _so_ ready to see him." She sighed, pressing her hands to her lips. 

Peter felt his eyebrows raise, and he looked from the girl to Professor Stark and back again. "I thought he was friends with Stark? And with how many papers he's published, he's gotta be like a hundred right?" The girl shook her head, shrugging. 

"I dunno, but he's totally not a hundred. I think they have some kind of mentor thing going on, Stark was his professor but since Stark was like, in college at thirteen, they're only a few years apart." Peter looked back towards Stark, who was chatting with a few of the people in the first row, glancing around the room with a wry grin. 

Something in Peter's brain was trying to connect the dots, he knew there was something he was still missing, but he wasn't sure what it was. He shifted back to his own space, giving the girl a smile of thanks for the information, and focused back on the front of the room, trying to put the pieces together into something that made sense. 

He didn't have long to think about it though, because after a few moments the door to the classroom opened once more and all the thoughts flew from his mind as  _ his _ Quentin stepped inside, looking even more windswept and handsome than he usually did. 

Everything made sense with a sickening sort of clarity, and Peter sunk down in his seat, trying to disappear. He knew if he got up and left, he'd only draw more attention to himself, so he resigned himself to the torment that was sitting through the hour and a half lecture. 

Professor Stark straightened when he saw Quentin -  _ Dr. Beck, call him Dr. Beck _ \- and smiled, clasping his hand warmly before turning to the class at large. 

"Alright, now I know why some of you are here, and I don't care.” He narrowed his eyes at the class. “You're all stuck, and you're going to listen to the lecture whether you want to or not." There was another ripple of laughter followed by some breathy sighs as Quentin smiled broadly, his dimples making him look softer. 

Peter's mind superimposed the image of Quentin smiling at his dumb joke, just a minute before running out, over the man at the front of the room and he flinched, sinking even lower in his chair. Stark started his introduction and Peter was only half-listening, eyes tracking every move Quentin made. 

When Tony finished the intro and ceded the floor to Quentin, the man smiled once more and thanked Tony before facing the assembled students and giving them a warm nod. 

"Thanks again, Tony, for that introduction. I'm glad to be here to talk to all of you about the research I've been working on, it's been so interesting-" His eyes swept the room as he talked, and when he noticed Peter, sitting as far down in his seat as humanly possible but still unable to look away from the man, he cut off with a choking sound. He regained his composure almost immediately, however, and kept talking, eyes sweeping the room but never looking at Peter. 

Peter spent the rest of the lecture in a haze, not really listening but also unable to tear his eyes away from Beck, who commanded the attention of the room with ease. Beck never looked at him, or even in his direction for the rest of the class, studiously avoiding Peter's gaze without seeming to. 

When he finished and the class gave him a round of applause, Peter jumped a little, not expecting it. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, and quickly gathered his things, ready to run from the room as soon as he could. 

Professor Stark held up his hands to halt everyone as the sounds of shuffling notebooks and opening zippers started up, and the room quieted once more. "Now everyone, one more minute please - I want to thank Dr. Beck here for agreeing to come in and talk to you all, he was especially resistant this year for some reason but he was great as always, so thank you, Quentin." Peter might have imagined it but he thought he saw Beck flinch, but in a blink, the expression was gone and he was smiling back towards the class, giving another happy wave. "And everyone, remember that we've got a test in two weeks! If you have questions, make sure you ask now instead of midnight the night before, I can promise you that I will not answer any questions within six hours of test day." The class laughed nervously, and Peter finished shoving everything into the backpack he'd meticulously duct-taped back together over the weekend. He stood, intent on keeping his head down and getting out as soon as possible, but Professor Stark's voice called out once more. "Oh and Peter Parker, can I see you for a moment? Nothing bad, you're not in trouble, wherever you are, just come up here for a minute before you leave." 

Peter felt the bottom of his stomach drop out and wondered for a brief second if he could possibly sneak out without Stark seeing him. Peter, after a second of thought, decided against it. The man was sharp as a tack and he wouldn't miss Peter running from the room like he was on fire. 

When he reached the front of the room, Peter paused, unsure of what to say. The rest of the class slowly filed out, chatting about the lecture, and he let his eyes roam over the other pupils, taking in the girls that grouped together, giggling and tossing looks at Beck, who stood chatting with another girl who'd stopped to ask him a question. 

Peter watched him flash the girl a smile and felt the bitter burn of jealousy curling in his throat. He clenched his hands into fists, angry at himself for thinking it, and turned to face Stark with his whole body, putting his back to Beck against his better judgment. He pushed away the memories of what happened the  _ last _ time he'd let Beck stand behind him, and forced a smile as he addressed his professor. 

"Uh hi, Professor Stark, I'm uh, I'm here. What did you need to talk to me about?" His professor turned from another student he'd finished answering a question for to face Peter, grinning. 

"Peter!" Stark reached out and clasped a hand on Peter's upper arm, a friendly gesture. He glanced behind Peter and frowned for a moment before grinning once again and taking a step back from Peter, removing his hand. "Yes, well, I've been meaning to talk to you since the semester began, really, but you know how it is." Peter did  _ not _ know how it was, but he hummed in agreement, curious why Stark wanted to talk with him at all. 

"What about, exactly? I didn't think you looked into every student in every class of yours, professor, I mean no offense to your teaching methods it's just that you have a lot of classes and I wouldn't have expected you to know my name or anything." Peter winced, talking faster in an attempt to remove his foot from his mouth and then falling silent when he ran out of defenses. Stark paid him nearly no mind, and just gave him another of those infuriating grins. 

"Well that's it, isn't it, you're - you do know that my classes are usually limited to upperclassmen only?" Peter nodded, he'd been right after all. "Well, you'll notice that you're  _ not  _ an upperclassman, despite the impressive number of AP credits that you entered school with. I asked the dean that if you requested to take any of my classes, a spot be made for you." Peter's mouth fell open at that, and he gaped at the professor. Before he could stammer out a question, Stark held up a hand, stopping him. "No, I wasn't stalking you or anything, but I do have a friend in the admissions department. She tipped me off that there was a  _ very _ promising freshman in the incoming class, and she forwarded me your entrance essay along with your high school grades and test scores." 

Peter frowned, thinking. "Wait, can - is she allowed to do that? I thought all that stuff was protected." Stark shook his head, waving one hand through the air. 

"Ehhh they say it is but if you actually read the fine print when you're clicking send on all those applications, they're allowed to give the info to any interested parties inside the school itself when making the decision. But anyway, I saw that essay you wrote. You've got one hell of a brain, kid, and I want it." Peter blinked. 

"Uhm, sir, I uh, I like my brain where it is. Sir." Tony laughed at that, clutching Peter's shoulder again as he tried to hold himself up. 

"Yeah me too, kid, me too. No, I'm not gonna attempt any brain snatching plots, those never work out well when they do it in cartoons. But I do want you to work for me." Peter blinked again, sure he'd misheard. 

"Sir, I-" Tony didn't pretty him get three words in edgewise. 

"And no, not as in a job job, just for right now. I've got an internship, I don't do it every semester, it's only when I find a promising candidate. You'd be working with me, as well as other members of my team to develop something for Stark Industries." Peter gaped, fully sure he was dreaming now. He pinched himself surreptitiously, but no, he wasn't asleep. 

"Professor, I - I don't know what to say." Tony smiled again and leaned in. 

"Don't give me an answer yet, I want you to really think about it. It would be long hours in the lab, and if science isn't what you want to do with your life, you'd probably hate it." Peter nodded, but he already knew he would do almost anything to make it work out. Working with  _ Tony Stark _ in his  _ lab _ . 

Tony looked past Peter, who turned to see that Quentin had finally stopped chatting with the two girls, and was looking at them with an odd expression on his face. Peter couldn't quite place the expression, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what the other man was thinking. 

"And of course, the other reason I wanted to talk to you today was because Dr. Beck here was speaking to the class, and I figured he could give you an idea of what it would be like. He was one of the first students I gave the opportunity, and he's been a Stark Industries employee since." Peter blinked. 

"What? I didn't - uh, I didn't know that." Stark shrugged and shot a grin at Beck. 

"He does other stuff, publishers papers and things like that, but he's consulted on any number of projects over the years and even if he's not around we make sure he's well funded." Tony grinned at Beck again and Beck looked from him to Peter, nodding stiffly. 

"Yeah, I, uh, I've been friends with Tony pretty much since grad school." He didn't look at Peter directly, eyes fixed on Tony's face as he talked. Tony seemed to pick up on some of the tension in the room, and he looked from Peter to Beck and back again. 

"Hey, is there something I'm missing here? Because if you two already know each other, that's great, I was going to suggest that you talk so Quentin can give you a rundown of what you'd be doing if you wanted to take the position. He's met quite a few of my interns, he knows generally how it goes." 

Peter couldn't speak, but Beck manager to answer Tony, although his voice cracked as he spoke. "We uh, live in the same building. We haven't really talked much before, though." Peter choked. That was one way to put it, really it wasn't even untrue, they  _ hadn't _ talked much the one time they did interact. 

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the flood of images and sense memories. When he opened them, Quentin was looking straight at him, and Peter resisted the urge to close his eyes again. The man's stare wasn't unsettling, exactly, but it made a curl of  _ want _ snake its way around Peter's insides, and he knew he shouldn't want Quentin. He couldn't. 

Tony had picked up on something between the two of them, and he looked from Quentin to Peter and then back again. "Okay well, Peter, I'd love to have you, if you want to join. Could you have an answer for me by next week?" Peter felt himself nod, not looking away from Quentin. "Great, thanks. And yeah uh, Quentin worked with a number of my interns and he knows the drill so, yeah. If you want to talk to him about it, feel free. Are uh, are you planning on killing each other if I leave you alone?" Peter flicked his eyes over to Stark, who stood to one side, looking between them with mild concern. 

"Uh no, uh Professor Stark, we're - we're not gonna kill each other." At least, Peter very much hoped not. "Just weird seeing someone you know from one place somewhere else, you know?" He attempted to give Tony a reassuring smile, but judging by Tony's reaction he wasn't as successful as he hoped. 

Tony turned fully to Quentin, breaking his focus from Peter. "Quentin, hey, are you cool if I leave you here to talk to Peter for a bit? I just remembered uh, a thing, that I've gotta go do, yeah so you can talk to him about internship stuff and not murder him and I'll see you around, alright?" Quentin nodded at him, blinking slowly, and cocked his head. 

"Yeah, of course, I can talk to Peter about the internship. I promise no murder of any kind will happen, Tony, come on. You know me." Quentin smiled at him reassuringly, and his attempt was more successful than Peter’s. Tony nodded but his brows drew up and he looked between the two of them. 

"Okay, if you're sure. Peter, I'll see you in class on Thursday." Peter nodded, giving Professor Stark another glance, and then the man was gone. 

When he looked back to Quentin, the man's jaw was set and his eyes flashed in warning. Before Peter could process what was happening, he was face down on the old desk in the front of the room, ass sticking out, with Quentin standing behind him. 

"He was touching you." Peter shivered at his tone and the movement of Quentin's breath through his hair as he growled the words in Peter's ear. 

"What?" Peter's voice was shaky, and Quentin growled. He ground his erection against Peter's ass, hands curling on his hips. Peter stifled a moan, head snapping up to make sure they were alone. They were, the last of the students aside from him having been the girls Quentin was talking with, and Peter had a millisecond of relief before he realized they were still in a  _ classroom _ with the door unlocked. 

"Q-Quentin, wait, we - we can't here, this is, we're in a  _ classroom _ , what if someone sees? What if someone comes in?" One of Quentin's hands moved from Peter's hip to his hair, fisting in it tightly and holding Peter's head up. 

"If someone sees, well  _ good _ , they'll know you're mine. You  _ belong _ to me, Peter. I don't want anyone else touching you like Stark was." Peter blinked, trying to remember his professor touching him like  _ this _ . After a few moments, he dredged up the hazy thought of Stark clasping his shoulder, and he snorted. 

"What, you're annoyed that he fucking  _ patted my shoulder _ ?" Peter's voice rose as he spoke and he turned in Beck's grip to glare at the man. "And where the fuck are you coming from with that 'you belong to me' bullshit? You're the one that left me, remember?" Quentin blinked and his expression faltered, moving from the animalistic lust and anger to the softer, more human side Peter saw the last time, after they were done fucking. 

"I - shit." Beck's hand left Peter's hair, and Peter nearly groaned at the loss. "You're right, shit, you're not - I don't own you, you're not mine and I don't have any kind o-of  _ claim _ on you." Beck stepped back, putting distance between their bodies. Peter nearly whined at the loss of friction. "Shit, I'm - I'm sorry Peter, I'm just - I can't think clearly when it comes to you, I see you and I just - I  _ need _ you, fuck." 

Peter shivered a little at the need in Beck's voice, and when he turned his head to look at the man, Beck's hands were clenched into fists held tightly at his sides, his head tipped up as he stared at the ceiling, avoiding the urge to look at Peter. 

"I - I don't mind, you know." Beck's eyes flicked down, made contact with Peter's own, and then flicked back towards the ceiling. "I-I'm okay if you - if you want me to be yours." Beck flinched, and his jaw tensed as he ground his teeth together. 

"You're - no. You're a student, and I'm - well I'm not your professor, but I might as well be, as well as your boss if you take the internship. And you're - Peter, this is a bad idea. For so many reasons." Peter rolled his eyes. 

"What, you think I don't know that?" Beck blinked and looked back to Peter, his mouth open slightly in shock. Peter snorted, and continued. "You thought I was gonna say 'oh no, Doctor Beck, we should get engaged because we're just so  _ right _ for each other' and assume we'd live happily ever after?" Peter snorted. "I'm young, but I know that's not how the world works,  _ doctor _ ." He didn't miss the clenching of Beck's fists at the title, and he filled that away for future use. "I'm just saying, if we're both gonna end up hurt at the end of this, we might as well have some great sex out of it, right?" 

Peter raised an eyebrow at Beck, who growled at him again and grabbed him by the hips. "God you fucking - you're such a little _ shit _ , Parker, and I'm gonna fuck all of that sass out of you, how does that sound?" Peter nodded, pressing back against Beck's hips, and groaned as Beck once more pinned him against the desk. 

“Yes - fuck, yes, please fuck me, I need - I need-” Beck fisted a hand in his hair once more and pulled his head back, stretching his neck out. 

“You need?  _ You _ need? I’ll tell you what, Peter, how about you think about what  _ I _ need, huh?” Peter drew in a shaky breath, but he couldn’t answer as Quentin kept talking. “I need to spend one second not thinking about you and how beautiful you were for me, how eager you were for it even though I didn’t even ask, I just  _ took _ .” He punctuated his words with a thrust against Peter’s ass that ground them together through two layers of clothing, and Peter gasped. “And you were so open for me, so ready and I spent the rest of the weekend staring at the ceiling and telling myself that I shouldn’t want you, that you’re just a kid and I’m too old for you and that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go knock on your door and spend the next week and a half fucking you against every flat surface in both of our apartments.” Peter groaned at that, eyes fluttering shut as he imagined it. 

“But you know what, Peter?” Peter shook his head. “You’re just as smart and as talented as I was worried you would be and now I’m stuck here, trying to tell myself that I should be your mentor, I should  _ help _ you with Tony, and with school, and it would be a bad idea to fuck you into next week.” Peter whimpered. “And I don’t think I can do that, I’m not a selfless man, Peter.” 

Quentin growled in his ear and one of his hands reached around Peter’s body, deftly undoing the fly on Peter’s jeans and slipping inside. He wrapped nimble fingers around Peter’s erection, tugging quickly, and Peter couldn’t help the sound he made, a cross between a sob and a yelp. Quentin’s hand didn’t let up, though, and he rubbed harder against Peter’s backside, pressing his hips into the hardwood of the desk. 

“Q-Quentin, please I - ah, ah,” Peter’s voice was high and he hated the way he sounded in that moment, but he couldn’t hold back even as he came, far too soon than he wanted to. It felt endless, his hips stuttering and Quentin’s hand moving faster, catching his come as he spilled. 

As Peter’s breathing slowed, he realized Quentin hadn’t come yet, and flushed, burning bright red across his cheeks. “Quentin you’re, I mean I’m - shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t, I didn’t mean to-” Quentin’s hand, the one not covered in Peter’s come, came up almost casually and slotted across Peter’s mouth, cutting off his words. Peter stopped speaking abruptly, his mouth closing at the feeling of the warm dry skin of Quentin's palm against his face. The feeling was comforting, despite preventing him from speaking. 

“Now Peter,” Quentin’s voice was fairly restrained, considering he was still rocking against Peter’s ass. “I’m going to let you up, and you’re not going to start talking just yet, hmm?” Peter nodded. The hand left his mouth, and he sucked in a deep breath. His airflow hadn’t really been cut off, he could still breathe through his nose just fine, but he took the breath all the same. Peter felt a sense of loss as Quentin moved his hand off, and he rocked his hips back into Quentin's erection as the man moved. Peter found he really liked having Quentin hold his hand over Peter’s mouth, the knowledge that he could trust the other man with that power. 

Quentin leaned back, and skillfully pulled his other hand out of the front of Peter’s jeans. Peter winced at the wet feeling, uncomfortable now that he’d come down a bit from the high. Quentin had caught most of it, but there were still some damp spots that made him wriggle uncomfortably. 

Quentin held his come-covered hand up before Peter’s face. “Clean me off, Peter.” Peter blinked. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Quentin didn’t give him time to process, though, and he bit down sharply on Peter’s neck at the juncture between his neck and collarbone. “Peter. Now.” Peter didn’t hesitate again, tilting his head forward and licking Beck’s hand clean, taking time to suck each finger into his mouth, teasing. 

Beck didn’t discourage him from doing that, but when Peter pulled back, Quentin’s hand followed him, thumb coming around his jaw and two fingers pressing into his mouth, forcing it open. Peter’s head jerked back, more in surprise than anything else, and landed against Beck’s solid chest. He found himself held steady, nearly unable to move, and instead of tensing up or being scared, he relaxed into the hold. Beck used the grip on Peter’s jaw to hold him in place, still rubbing against Peter’s ass almost absently. 

“Good boy, Peter. You did a good job cleaning me off, and not arguing.” Peter whimpered, enjoying the praise more than he expected. “Now, do you still want me to fuck you?” Peter nodded, moving his head as much as he was able with the fingers still in his mouth. He wanted that so much he ached with it, and his dick made a feeble attempt to get hard again at the thought. “Okay, well here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to leave, and go home.” Peter frowned. He didn’t want to go home, he wanted Quentin to fuck him over the desk. 

Before he could say anything, Quentin’s grip on him tightened slightly, hand leaving Peter’s mouth to wrap gently around his throat, not cutting off his air entirely but pressing, a warning. “Peter, before you think about arguing, let me finish.” Peter nodded again. “You’re going to go home, and you’re going to prep yourself for me.” Peter gasped, and the hand around his throat tightened. He breathed out slowly through his nose, releasing his breath and relaxing the tension that entered his frame. 

He nodded, and felt Beck nod as well. “Good, Peter. You know how to do that?” Peter nodded once more, and Beck’s thumb came up, caressing the skin behind his ear. “Good. You prep yourself for me. Do you have any toys, Peter?” Peter shook his head, feeling Beck’s hand cut into his skin as he moved. “Hmm, well we’ll have to change that soon. No matter, it’s not a huge problem to work around.” Peter felt him sigh, both the movement of Quentin’s chest and the hot breath on the back of his neck. “In the meantime, let’s say - hmm, let’s say you prep yourself well enough to take four of your fingers easily, can you do that?” Peter’s eyes widened but he nodded, feeling Beck buck into him from behind. “Okay, you do that. And you’re going to wait for me like that, making sure you keep four fingers inside you, is that clear?” Peter nodded. “Good. I’ll be along shortly, and I’ll notice if you don’t follow any of my instructions.” His hands left Peter’s throat and hip, and Peter nearly fell over. He was already getting hard again, and he didn’t know how Quentin could stand it, letting go of him. 

When Peter got his feet under him and turned to look at Quentin, he saw the nearly feral need in the man’s eyes. Instead of scaring him, it sent a jolt of arousal up his spine, and Peter shivered in anticipation. He took one shaky step and then another, away from Quentin and towards the door to the classroom. When his hands touched the door, he paused. He looked back towards Quentin, who gave him a smirk. 

“And Peter?” Peter cocked his head, waiting for the additional instructions. “You can’t come again without permission. First one was a freebie, but you have to  _ earn _ the next.” Peter gulped. “Leave the door unlocked, be waiting on the bed. Now  _ go _ .” Peter went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as I said, I have no idea where this is headed. I have no excuses. If you like, let me know, I thrive on positive reinforcement! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like shit and I didn't edit this very much but here, have more. This may or may not have been mostly written while I was really bored and sleep-deprived at work, lol. Take from that what you will about how much of a shit I give about my job right now.

When the classroom door clicked shut behind Peter, he leaned against it for a moment, needing to catch his breath. _ Holy shit_. 

He wasn’t sure if what he thought just happened happened, but as he shifted and felt the uncomfortable wet spots on the inside of his boxers, as well as the increasingly insistent erection from the way Beck rubbed against him, he knew he hadn’t imagined any of it. 

Peter let his head fall back against the door for a moment, closing his eyes. "_Fuck._" He really was about to go home and finger himself open and wait for however long Quentin decided to take to come fuck him silly. 

Peter's eyes snapped open, and he straightened, pushing off the door. _ Hell yes that's what I want. _

He looked from one end of the hallway to the other and quickly adjusted himself in his jeans, fixing the now rather insistent erection so it didn’t press quite as obviously against his zipper. Once he was adjusted, he walked down the hallway towards the exit, and out of the building. 

Standing on the sidewalk outside, Peter blinked in the abrupt sunlight, trying to force his eyes to adjust. His feet knew the way though, and as he blinked he started down the sidewalk, glad he didn't have to cross the road for a while. 

Peter let his feet lead him home, not paying much attention to the route as he walked. His thoughts were fixed solely on Quentin and what waited for him once he got back, and he was surprised when he looked up and realized he'd walked the entire way home without noticing. 

Shaking his head, he jogged up the front steps to the building and typed in the door code quickly, tugging it open and slipping inside. He fumbled with his keys but got them into the lock quickly enough, turning the knob to his apartment with shaking fingers. 

Once the door shut behind him, Peter sighed, taking a deep breath. He dropped his bag on the floor, not paying much attention to where it landed. With shaky steps, he put one foot in front of the next until he stood in the doorway to his bedroom, eying the bed. 

_ Was he really going to do this? _

_ Yes, yes he was. _

Peter walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, thinking. Before he could lose his nerve, he scooted back and tugged his shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room. Quentin hadn't said how long it would be until he got there - he could have left ten seconds after Peter, or he could have had something else to do that would have kept him for a while. 

Either way, Peter got the feeling that if he wasn't ready by the time Quentin got there, he wouldn't be getting much more time to figure it out. _Shit, okay, gotta, yeah. Just gotta do it, and hope this isn't some plot to leave me hanging and then laugh at me the next time he sees me._

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the lingering doubt that it was somehow a trick, and then opened them again, steeling himself. He reached down and rubbed at the erection tenting his jeans before popping the button and tugging the zipper down. 

_ Now, remember, no coming again until I give you permission. _Peter shivered a little at the thought and eased his hand down the front of his pants, rubbing at himself before pulling his hand back, hissing at the loss of friction. Quentin _wouldn't_ be happy if he disobeyed. 

He pulled his jeans down his hips and kicked them off, towards the end of the bed. Leaving his boxers on, he spread his feet apart, propping his knees up and laying himself back against the pillows. Peter knew how he looked, panting for it and straining against the thin fabric of his boxers even before he started. The image did nothing to stop his arousal though, and he pictured the look on Quentin's face when he saw Peter ready and waiting for him. 

With that thought, Peter took a deep breath and reached over to the side table to pull out his bottle of lube, dropping it on the bed beside him. He opened it with a soft 'snick' and poured a little into his palm, warming it. Now he'd exhausted every single step he could think of to prolong the process of getting ready, he sighed and slicked up the first two fingers of his right hand. 

Peter shifted on the bed, sliding so he could put pressure on the soles of his feet and tilt his hips back for easier access. He slid one hand into his boxers, bypassing his dick and pushing between his cheeks. He gasped at the feeling and dragged his finger over his hole, rubbing it and bucking into the friction. 

"Oh - _ fuck _." He gasped again and slowly pushed his finger in to the first knuckle, pressing gently against the rim to ease the muscle. Once he was able to do that much, he pushed the rest of his finger in, groaning low in his throat. He moved his wrist, pumping his finger in and out of himself with ease - he didn't usually finger himself when he was jerking off, but he’d gotten a lot of practice in the few days since Quentin took him so roughly. 

After a minute of one finger, he added another, pushing it in alongside the first. The stretch hurt a little, but he eased into it and the pain lessened after a moment. He moaned again as he scissored his fingers, moving them in and out of his body as he did. "Ohfuck please, shit, _ please_." He imagined Quentin's face if he were to walk in, and moaned again, louder. 

With a rush, he pushed a third finger alongside the first two, faster than he usually stretched himself, but he was impatient to get to four. It hurt more than the second, and he hissed through his teeth. With his other hand, he palmed his dick, needing the pleasure to cut the pain of the stretch. He bucked again, into his palm and then back onto his fingers, seesawing between the two sensations. The pain of the stretch once again faded to pure pleasure and he sighed, spreading his legs further apart. 

Impatient to finish stretching himself, he pulled both hands out of his boxers and hurriedly pushed them down and off his body, kicking them with one foot off to the side. Quickly, he planted his feet on the bed again and spread his legs, pushing three fingers inside himself once more. He moaned loudly at the feeling, and spared a thought for his neighbors before grinning wickedly at the thought of _ Quentin _hearing him masturbating. Although Quentin was actually a few doors down, so he wouldn't be the one to hear Peter, the thought was still highly entertaining. 

Pumping three fingers in and out of himself, Peter couldn't help but snake his other hand up to once more palm at his dick, tugging in sharp motions before hissing and letting go, not wanting to come without Quentin's permission. Instead, he steeled himself and grabbed the lube again, re-slicking his hand and getting all four of his fingers this time. 

With a deep breath, he pushed three fingers in and spread them slightly, scissoring and stretching himself. Once he thought he was ready, he added the fourth, and his hips rose off the bed, straining to get some friction on his very insistent dick. He panted and grabbed at the sheets, turning his head to bite the pillow in frustration as he strained not to come from the feeling alone. The stretch hurt, but the feeling of fullness was gratifying at the same time and he had to think about old people and chewing gum on the underside of tables to keep from coming right then and there. 

Peter kept his hand moving, pushing in and out of himself, and keened high in his throat as the need to come solidified into a heavy weight in his gut. He kept fingering himself, panting with the pressing need, but left his other hand fisted in the sheets, not touching his dick. 

He kept up with the torture for long minutes, toes curling as he worked himself. Eventually, he reached a sort of plateau, where he knew he would come if he got any more stimulation but as it was he could likely hold off for a while. 

Peter wasn't sure how long he lasted like that, all he knew was the slick slide of his fingers in and out of his body and the hard incessant need to come that he steadfastly ignored. He started counting down from a thousand in his head and by the time he got to the four hundreds he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, even at his current pace. 

It was as he was thinking that thought that he heard his front door open and shut softly, a small sound that he knew well. Still, he wouldn’t have noticed if not for the fact that his entire body was on edge, every sense heightened. 

He thought about calling out, about letting Beck know where he was, but he was worried that even that might be too much for him and might push him over the edge. The man had said to wait on his bed, and that was where Peter was, so surely Quentin would know he was there. 

Peter held his breath, stretching his lungs so far he heard them creak ominously, and listened for Quentin’s footsteps. After a moment he heard them, soft footfalls across his living room and through the doorway to the kitchen meaning Quentin likely stopped to take his shoes off by the door. Peter’s first instinct was to thank him for the courtesy, and his second instinct was to shout that Quentin needed to _ get in here and fuck him already, goddamnit._ He ignored both urges though, and just spread his feet a little wider, making sure he was on full display if someone were to walk through the bedroom door. 

When Quentin’s footstops came to a halt outside his door, Peter’s heart stopped, and he groaned loudly in frustration as the man still didn’t enter. That seemed to finally spur the man into action, and the doorknob turned softly. Quentin pushed open the door and stopped when he saw Peter on the bed, his eyes widening at the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and say nice things because my head is pounding and I just want to sleep and I can't.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went back and edited the chapter from yesterday, good god how many times did I use the word 'eased'? It's fixed now, lol. Since I'm writing every day for NaNo (and posting stuff the same day because I'm thirsty for comments) anyone who is very interested in reading quality work should probably wait a day before reading every chapter, since I'm probably going to go back and edit afterwards. That being said, if you don't mind my shitty writing, read on!

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Quentin’s face - it would be too much. His breath came in short pants and he didn’t pause as he fingered himself, hips moving in rhythm with his wrist. He grit his teeth and managed to get out a few curt words. 

“Get. Over. Here. And _ fuck me_. _ Now_.” Quentin’s strides towards the bed were much faster than his earlier footsteps, and Peter groaned as he felt the bed dip under the weight of Quentin’s knees. 

Hands were on him then, running up his thighs and pausing before they reached the juncture of his legs, where he was still fucking his fingers into himself, dick hard and aching and insistent against his stomach. When Peter felt the hands move towards his erection, he held up his free hand, trying to warn Quentin. 

“Shit, wait no, I’m too-” It was too late and as Quentin’s hands wrapped around Peter’s dick he tipped over the edge, back bowing as he came harder than a freight train. It felt like an eternity but it was probably only a minute or so, and Quentin pumped his dick through it, walking forward on his knees to lean over Peter, pressing him down into the mattress. 

Peter became aware after a minute that Quentin had the hand not wrapped around Peter’s dick in his hair, and he spoke softly to Peter as he came, his voice a soothing murmur by Peter’s ear. “It’s okay, Peter, it’s okay, you can come, I’m not mad, you can come, good job.” The soft words and praise were almost too much, and Peter felt tears coming to his eyes unbidden. He tried to blink them away, but Quentin noticed before he could blink them away fully. 

Peter shut his eyes, expecting Quentin to call him silly or say he was a child, crying after an orgasm like that, but Quentin just let go of Peter’s now soft dick and wrapped both hands around Peter, shifting so he was next to Peter on the bed. He gathered Peter into his arms and held him pressed to Quentin’s chest, the warmth of Quentin’s skin radiating out for Peter to feel, even through the shirt Quentin still wore. 

As Peter came back down to earth, he noted with some humor that Quentin was still completely dressed, minus his shoes. His erection tented his dress slacks, but he didn’t even seem to notice, he was so focused on Peter. 

“Shit.” Peter’s mumbled curse was barely audible, but Quentin still stiffened at the sound, and his arms went tense around Peter. 

“Peter? You okay?” The arms around Peter loosened as if to let him go, and Peter drew back reluctantly from Quentin’s warmth. 

“Yeah, yeah m’fine. I just - I wasn’t, I’m sorry.” Peter felt the tears threatening again, and he looked down, away from Quentin’s face. “M’sorry.” 

Quentin tilted his head up, forcing Peter to look him in the eyes. “Peter, why are you sorry?” Peter blinked and felt his lower lip quiver dangerously. Quentin saw it, but still let Peter pull out of his grip, looking away once more. 

“B-Because I came without permission, and I don’t - I’m not sure why I’m acting like this, it’s not - I can’t s-stop.” Quentin’s hands came back around him, and Peter let himself be held once more. 

“Peter, it’s _ okay_.” Peter sniffed, not really hearing him. “Peter, hey, Pete, come here.” He pulled Peter tighter against his chest and Peter didn’t resist, curling closer to the warmth. “Peter, if anyone should be saying sorry here, it’s me.” Peter looked up at him in confusion, and Quentin smiled softly at him, brushing a piece of hair away from his face. 

“W-Why are you sorry? I - it’s what I wanted, I asked for it, and you still - I couldn’t do it and you still, you’re still being so _ nice _ to me.” Peter’s confusion over Quentin’s treatment of him was clear, and Quentin carded a hand through his hair again. He took a moment before answering. 

“Well, first and foremost, I’m sorry for not getting your consent before I touched you, the first time.” Peter blinked, confused by the change in subject. 

“You - I liked it, and I didn’t, I wasn’t-” Quentin held up a hand to stop him. 

“Yes, and it worked out okay, but if you hadn’t wanted me to, it wouldn’t have been great.” Peter closed his mouth and thought that over before nodding. “And I’m sorry for that. And also for running out on you, I wasn’t expecting you to say what you said, it made me realize exactly how much older I am than you and I just - I wasn’t brave, Peter.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and kept talking. “I should have stayed to explain, but I ran and hoped you weren’t actually in that class, and that was not good. So I’m sorry for that.” Peter nodded, letting him finish saying his piece. 

“And I should have actually sat and talked with you this afternoon, instead of going caveman on you.” Peter chuckled at that, laughing into Quentin’s chest. Quentin squeezed him slightly and chuckled as well, nosing at Peter’s hair. “Alright, well I know you probably liked it, but still. I’m the adult, I should know better.” He held up a hand again, stopping Peter’s argument before he could voice it. “I know you’re an adult too, Peter, but you know what I mean.” Peter nodded, although he pouted a little at the description. 

Quentin noticed his pout, and leaned down to press his lips to Peter’s softly, kissing him almost sweetly. Peter tilted his head up, accepting the kiss and enjoying the change from the animalistic way Quentin had taken him previously. 

The kiss started light, but soon Quentin deepened it, licking his way inside Peter's mouth. Peter groaned into the kiss, letting Quentin roll them so he was on top of Peter, one knee pressing Peter's legs apart. Peter was reminded that Quentin still hadn’t come when he felt the erection pressing insistently against his ass through the fabric of Quentin’s pants. _ Those pants are probably _covered _in lube and come, he might have to throw them out. _ That thought was both humorous and more than a little hot, and Peter canted his hips to offer a better angle for Quentin to grind against him. 

When they broke apart, both Quentin and Peter were panting, and Peter arched his back, tilting his head so his neck was exposed. Quentin took the offered opportunity and leaned down to press a series of hot open-mouthed kisses to Peter's neck, biting gently. 

Quentin pulled back and Peter whined, rising up to try to recapture Quentin's lips. Quentin didn't let him though, and hovered above Peter, out of reach. 

"Shit Peter, wait, I - we have to_ talk _ about this first." Peter whined again in protest, rolling his hips against Quentin's persistent erection. 

"Don't want to wait, I need you, come on I'm still so ready for it, so open - need you t-to fuck me, need you to fill me up, _please_." Quentin growled and hooked a hand under each of Peter's knees, hauling his legs up and spreading them, pushing so Peter's knees pressed against his chest and he was exposed fully. “Please, yes, please, fuck I-” Peter’s babbling cut off as Quentin leaned down to capture his mouth again, and this time it wasn’t a sweet kiss, it was hungry. Quentin nipped at Peter’s bottom lip and Peter’s hands shot out, wrapping around Quentin’s chest and pulling him closer still. 

Quentin let go of one of Peter’s knees and reached down to unbutton his pants, pushing them down impatiently with a huff. He growled in Peter’s ear, and Peter fumbled but found the discarded bottle of lube from where he’d tossed it on the bed, pushing it into Quentin’s hand. 

One-handedly, Quentin opened the cap and tipped the bottle upside down, expertly catching the liquid in his hand before flipping it back over again. He reached between his legs and palmed himself, eyes shutting for a moment at the feeling. 

Once he was ready, Quentin’s eyes opened again and he searched out Peter’s own, locking eyes with him and asking him with a look if he really wanted to go through with it. Peter didn’t answer in words, he just used the leg Quentin wasn’t holding against his chest to wrap around Quentin’s back and pull him closer, so Quentin’s erection rubbed against Peter’s own renewed one. 

They both moaned at the contact, and Quentin nodded, reaching down to position himself against Peter’s body. Peter was still so loose from fingering himself open that it only took one short thrust for Quentin to be buried in him to the hilt, and Peter’s breath hitched at the sudden full feeling, his hands scrabbling against Quentin’s shirt, trying to find purchase. 

“Fuck! Fuck, please, shit, fuck-” Peter was babbling again, and he couldn’t make himself stop, words pouring out of his mouth at an accelerating pace. Quentin didn’t seem to mind, however, and he just bucked into Peter, hips pulling out and then pistoning back in with equal force. 

The pace Quentin set was brutal, and Peter knew he would likely be sore afterwards. He didn’t mind the idea though, and he met Quentin with every thrust, tilting his hips back to allow him deeper still. 

Without pausing in his rhythm, Quentin drew back a little so he could see Peter’s face, looking him in the eyes as he moved. Peter blinked rapidly, unsure at the unexpected intimacy. Quentin seemed sure though, and he leaned down to press his lips once more against Peter’s, kissing him gently. It was more chaste than Peter expected, and despite his attempts to deepen it Quentin kept the kiss light and soft, even as he used his grip on Peter’s thighs to haul him up and fuck him harder. The juxtaposition had Peter’s head spinning and he realized he was a lot closer to coming than he wanted to be. 

He broke the kiss, turning his head in order to try to pant out a warning to Quentin. “Gonna - Quen- fuck, gonna come soon if you don’t-” Quentin nodded, understanding, and reached one hand between their bodies, grabbing at Peter’s erection. Peter pushed his hand away, wanting to last. “Please - want to, fuck Quentin, want to come from just your dick, please let me, please-” Quentin gasped, his breath catching as he released Peter’s erection, his hands coming up to grab Peter’s thighs once more, fingers digging in and sure to leave marks. 

“Fuck, Peter, shit, you’re so - ah-” With that, Quentin was coming, pressing his hips flush with Peter’s and half holding Peter’s hips in the air, emptying himself into Peter and dropping his head to the crook of Peter’s neck. He bit down hard as he came, teeth catching the soft skin below Peter’s ear and holding. That painsweet feeling tipped Peter over the edge and he came as well, scrabbling against Quentin’s back with his arms and legs as he tried to find something to anchor him. 

Quentin collapsed on top of Peter, panting, and only managed not to knock the wind out of him through sheer luck. Peter was too spent to do anything other than lay there, and he did exactly that, trying to catch his breath as he came down from his third orgasm in so many hours. 

After a while - Peter wasn’t sure how long exactly but it was long enough for the sweat to cool and for him to realize that if he wasn’t laying under Quentin’s bulk and warmth, he would probably be shivering - Quentin stirred from the position where he had been nuzzling Peter’s neck absently. He turned his head and Peter felt warm breath ghost over his cheek before Quentin was shifting, moving so he wasn’t completely covering Peter’s body with his own. 

Quentin settled next to Peter, wrapping his arms around Peter’s chest and pulling him closer to the older man before tugging the sheets over both of them to ward off the worst of the cold air. Peter let himself be moved, enjoying the feeling of Quentin’s strong arms wrapped around him. They lay like that a while longer without speaking, just enjoying the other’s presence, but it couldn’t last forever. 

When Quentin took a deep breath and sighed, his mouth pressing close against Peter’s neck where he’d left what would likely be a very large hickey, Peter knew it was time for more _ talking_. He sighed as well and turned in Quentin’s arms so he could face the other man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how much you love me because I am a thirsty ho, much like Peter Parker. <3
> 
> A03 why do you do this to me? Argh the extra spaces between italic words and punctuation keeps happening, I will do my best to fix it but it *keeps* happening, even after I publish and then go back and edit. So please bear with me, I'm so unsure why it is doing that and I really hate having to go through and fix it every time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am exhausted but I present this very long chapter to y'all, please let me know what you think. I'm so sorry but I do not have the extra energy to go through and fix all the weird formatting things A03 does, so if there's extra spaces that's totally on me. Well, it's on A03, but I am also just not rereading for the millionth time to fix it right now.

When Peter met his eyes, Quentin sighed again, blowing out his breath and rolling his own. “You don’t have to look like you’re walking to execution, Peter, it’s just talking.” Peter ‘harumph’ed and Quentin grinned, eyeing the boy’s pout. “You know, if you’re going to sulk, I know a good way to make you smile.” Peter looked up at him in confusion and Quentin grinned broadly, a wicked glint in his eyes. 

Without telegraphing his motions, Quentin rose up and flipped Peter, one hand on the small of his back so Peter was facedown on the mattress, his face pressed against the pillow. Peter barely had a second to contemplate the new position before Quentin’s hands were on him, and Peter understood what he’d meant with a jolt. 

His breath went shaky as he tried to resist, but Peter couldn’t fight it for long. “Que- fuck, please Quentin, no, I’m not – Please!” The tickling continued, with Quentin running his hands along Peter’s sides from his position seated on Peter’s ass. Peter wiggled, trying to break free, but Quentin had him pinned easily. “Okay, okay, I’ll - I’ll let you talk and I won’t complain, please, Quentin!” The tickling stopped, and Quentin’s hands came to rest on Peter’s flanks, soothing the skin he’d been irritating. Peter’s breathing evened out and he settled, arms still tense in case of another attack. 

Once Quentin was sure Peter wasn’t going to retaliate as soon as he moved, he sat back and rolled off Peter, flopping onto the bed beside him. Peter turned so he faced Quentin, and took in the man. Quentin was still mostly dressed, his shirt half buttoned and his pants tugged halfway down his thighs. The haste with which he'd fucked Peter was evident in his rumpled clothes, and Peter looked him over appreciatively. 

Quentin caught his look and smirked, propping one leg up so he was more on display. "Hmm, like what you see, Peter?" Peter swallowed, looking Quentin over. 

"Y-Yeah, you're - yeah, I like what I see." Peter's answer was uncharacteristically honest, and Quentin blinked at the honesty. Peter offered him a small smile and shrugged. "I came three times today, my brain is a little scrambled." Quentin smiled at that, and reached one arm out towards Peter, pulling him close once more. 

"Hmm, well I can work with a scrambled brain." He kissed Peter's temple and tucked him into Quentin's shoulder. "But we should probably talk about this. About everything." Peter sighed, fisting one small hand in Quentin's shirt. "It's not bad, Peter, but we have to figure out what _ this _ is." Peter nodded. 

"Yeah, I just - I'm not sure that I even know what we're doing; can't it just be fun for a while?" He knew his voice was petulant and Peter nuzzled further into Quentin's shirt, pressing his face against Quentin's chest. 

Quentin's hands came up to card through Peter's hair, and Peter sighed softly at the feeling, letting Quentin hold him close for long moments. "Who says it won't be fun?" 

Peter shrugged. 

"Just, I don't know, once you know where you stand with someone else, it's never where you want to be, is it?" His mumble was nearly unintelligible, but Quentin chuckled at him in response. 

"Okay, so let's start there. Where  _ do  _ you want to be, Peter?" Peter shrugged again. 

"I dunno." He looked up at Quentin from his position against Quentin's chest. "Here, I guess. With you. It's nice." 

Quentin's face softened and he smiled at Peter. "Well, that's easy enough to arrange. I like being here with you as well." Peter made a soft noise into Quentin's shirt. 

"That's not what I meant, but yeah." Quentin didn't answer him, waiting for more. "I just - I like this. It's fun – I like sex. But I don't – I don't know you, really?" Quentin nodded. "And I don't - it's not that I don't want to know you, but it was really great sex. Without anything, without even _ talking _ it was good. And I - with the internship, with Professor Stark," Peter cut off abruptly, sucking in a breath. "Shit, he - he probably thinks I'm crazy, or something, the way I was looking at you." 

Quentin's arms around him squeezed gently, holding Peter closer to his chest for long moments before relaxing again. The pressure was nice, and Peter used the time to take a deep breath, calming himself as much as he was able. When Quentin spoke, his voice was even. "He didn't think you're crazy. If anything, he probably thinks  _ I'm _ crazy, but he's always thought that." Peter chuckled weakly. 

"I mean, you fucked me so hard my legs stopped working before you knew my name; you might be a little crazy." Quentin laughed as well, and some of the tension in the air faded at that. "But I want to work for him. Am I - would we have to stop, uh, this? If I did?" Quentin shook his head, his chin brushing Peter's hair as he moved. 

"No, we wouldn't have to stop. But uh, we would have to disclose the relationship." Peter stiffened in Quentin's arms. 

"What?" Quentin let him pull away slightly, staring in horror. "We'd have to - to  _ tell him we're fucking?" _ Quentin couldn't help but smile a little at Peter's horrified expression. 

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it like that, no. But yeah, especially if I would be helping on your internship project, we'd need to disclose the relationship so I could be sure there was no conflict of interest." Peter's eyes closed and he moaned, a sound of pain instead of pleasure. 

"No. No no,  _ no no. _ I can't, I'm not going to - to  _ tell my professor that I'm sleeping with you _ ." Quentin reached up and ran a hand over Peter's hair, tucking a lock behind Peter's ear. Peter flinched away, and opened his eyes. "God, he's - he'll, he'll judge me! And what if I don't get the internship? Then he'll just, then he'll just  _ know _ and he'll still be my professor but I - and I can't-" Peter trailed off, horror evident in his voice. 

"Peter, Peter slow down." Quentin trailed his fingers over Peter's scalp. "First, he wouldn't judge you for this. Well, he might give you shit because it's me, but he would never judge you or revoke your internship offer.” Peter’s breathing slowed slightly. “He’s Tony Stark, Peter. He had his share of wild trysts as a kid. Hell, half of his teenage years were spent plastered over every supermarket tabloid there is.” Quentin smoothed his hand over Peter’s harir again. “And I know he’s your professor, but he’s also a man, and come on, Peter, he remembers being your age.” 

Quentin looked down at him and grinned wickedly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And you know, come on, look at me.” Peter did, openly trawling his eyes over Quentin’s still partly clothed form. “Do you really think he’d blame you? God knows he’s been on my ass about distracting his students for years, it’s about time I actually slept with one of you.” Peter, who had been grinning a little despite himself at Quentin’s own self-absorption, sobered as he looked up to meet Quentin’s eyes again. 

“Hey, that’s - Quentin, did you sleep with me just to get to Professor Stark?” Peter pulled away from him, putting his hands flat against the chest in front of him and pushing to put distance between them.  _ I can’t believe I’m being so childish, but I have to know. If he just wanted to get back at Tony, well. _

“No!” The protest was loud in the quiet room. “No, of course not. I didn’t know you were in his class until today, although I had suspicions when you mentioned it the other day.” Peter stopped moving away, but made no move to get closer to Quentin again. “God, Peter, I didn’t even know your name the first time we - I didn’t know who you were, only that I  _ had _ to have you.” Quentin’s expression was so open that Peter believed him, despite his reservations. “I don’t - you’re, Peter you’re different, you’re just such a beautiful boy - I feel like I’m trapped in your orbit.” Quentin leaned in slowly, giving Peter the opportunity to stop him, and Peter didn’t, letting him press a soft kiss to his temple. 

Quentin looked into Peter’s eyes before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips – just a brush of skin. He pecked Peter’s lips once, twice, keeping the kisses light and soft but somehow pouring a lot of emotion into each one. “Peter, I’m - I’m crazy about you already, and it kind of scares me. You’re something else, and I’ll take as much as you want to give me.” He blinked slowly, and pressed another soft touch to Peter’s lips. “And I think we got off the original point here, which is that Tony won’t judge you even if you’re sleeping with me. Hell, he might be disappointed that you’re sleeping with me and not him, but hey I got to you first, it’s only fair.” 

Peter’s eyes went wide and he whipped his head up, staring at Quentin with disbelief. “Quentin!” The man fell back onto the bed, laughing, and Peter smacked him on the chest with an open palm. “That’s not funny! I believed you for a second!” Quentin only laughed harder at that, and it was a few minutes before he could calm himself down again. When he did, wiping at his eyes, he rolled back towards Peter. 

“I wasn’t laughing because I was lying, I was laughing because he probably does think that!” Quentin ran a hand over Peter’s head, rougher than he’d been before. “And he’s probably jealous that I get you.” Peter rolled his eyes, trying to bat Quentin’s hand away. 

“That’s not a funny joke, Quentin. Just leave it.” The hand in his hair refused to be batted away, and Quentin’s other hand came up to catch his wrist. With a tug on his scalp Quentin held Peter’s head back easily, rolling so he knelt over Peter, holding both wrists with his other hand in a lazy grasp Peter couldn’t break. 

“It wasn’t a joke, and I won’t. You’re beautiful, and I need to make sure you know that.” His voice was huskier than it had been a few minutes ago, and Peter swallowed audibly. “Now listen here. You’re a beautiful boy, okay?” Peter nodded, his heart speeding up, but not quite in fear – although the position left him nearly defenseless. “And everyone wants you, Peter. I couldn’t help myself, you know, when I saw you on the ground, but I’d noticed you before that.” He shifted, lowering his head to place his mouth right next to Peter’s ear. “I’d see you coming or going when I was going out, and you’re always so  _ cute _ Peter, with that ass of yours that won’t quit, and those  _ curls _ ,” he tugged on Peter’s hair with the grip he had, tilting Peter’s head back and exposing his throat. “And you just  _ move  _ – your hips move like you were born to seduce, Peter. You had me from the first moment I ever laid eyes on you.” 

Peter closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the words. Him - seductive? He’d never tried to seduce anyone, but Quentin sounded so sincere that he couldn't help but believe him.

"Okay, but I-I wasn't  _ trying _ to seduce you, or anyone." Quentin smiled at him again, and there was an edge to it. 

"You might not have been trying, but it still happened." He leaned in close, and Peter swallowed, apprehensive. "And Peter? If you don't believe me, I might just have to keep fucking you until you do." Peter nodded, a sharp jerk of his head that was all he could manage as he was so efficiently pinned down. 

Quentin smiled once more and then pulled back, abruptly letting go of Peter's wrists and releasing the grip in his hair. Peter blinked, confused, and Quentin rolled off him, towards the edge of the bed. "What - wait, where are you going?" 

Quentin turned his head to look slyly at Peter even as he smoothly righted himself, feet landing on the floor. "Well you were just saying you already came three times today, I think that's enough, right?" Peter did his best not to whine, pressing his face into the pillow so the other man wouldn't see his disappointment. "And I've got to go make my excuses to Tony; he's probably wondering if he should have left us alone by now." Peter let out a 'meep' and looked up, scanning Quentin's face for signs that he was joking. 

“Y-You’re not going to tell him, a-about us, right?” Peter felt his heart clench abruptly at the thought, and Quentin’s eyes softened. 

“No, not if you don’t want me to. I’ll probably have to be vague and misleading, but I can hold off on telling him for the moment. But Peter, if you want to do the internship, I will have to tell him if you don’t.” Peter gulped. “But you should just think on it for now, and I’ll see you around?” Peter nodded, watching as Quentin pulled himself together, righting his clothes as best as he could and tugging on his shoes. 

Peter’s earlier assessment was correct, the pants looked like they might be too far gone to save, although he would have paid good money to be a fly on the wall at the dry cleaner Quentin took them to when he tried. His shirt hadn’t fared much better, there was at least one button missing altogether and Peter wasn’t sure when it had been lost. Quentin also had a wicked case of bedhead and Peter must have bitten him at some point, because there was a bruise forming on his neck. 

“You look like a mess.” Peter’s eyes widened as he realized the words came out of his mouth, but Quentin just laughed, nodding. 

“Yeah, I probably do, no thanks to you. At least I don’t have very far to go. Next time I can try to take some of my clothes off, hmm?” Peter nodded, looking him up and down in appreciation. He knew the body the man hid under those clothes, and he was excited to get his hands on him. 

“So, uh, next time? There’s going to be one?” Quentin nodded again, and Peter bit his lip. “Okay. Because, uh yeah, I like this. It’s - yeah. I want to do this again.” Quentin smiled at him, and leaned down to press one more gentle kiss to Peter’s lips. 

“Yeah, me too. I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you around.” With that, the man left, and Peter was alone again. He sighed, and let his head drop back down onto the pillow. 

_ What the hell am I doing? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need input - what do you want to see happen next? I have a few ideas but nothing is set in stone, and I could use some inspiration. Anyone got anything they want to see?

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work and want to say thanks, feel free to buy me a coffee! :) ko-fi.com/sweetesthoney


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